Xie Lan slept very deeply until he heard Zhao Wenying’s low voice speaking outside the door.

This sleep was quite strange—his whole body felt restrained, difficult to move, difficult even to open his eyes. He struggled for a long time before finally opening his eyes a crack, letting the room’s scenery enter his vision.

In his vision, a pair of coffee-colored glass bead-like round eyes were right before him, staring at him sharply yet restrainedly.

Xie Lan instantly opened his eyes to the maximum.

The Big Cat was lying on his chest, paws tucked in, bringing its face close to his nose, sniffing.

Xie Lan: “!”

He was certain the cat’s whiskers were now resting on his cheek.

“How long have you been lying on me, staring?” Xie Lan was so shocked he questioned the cat.

Big Cat maintained its restraint. If it could speak, the answer would probably be “all night long.”

Xie Lan: “…”

This cat was probably Dou Sheng, transformed—secretly observing him all night.

He struggled to lift his arm to push the cat away and fumbled down from the bed.

Zhao Wenying’s voice sounded again outside the door, very cold.

“No way. Raising a cat? I hate things that shed the most. If you want to raise it, move out.”

Dou Sheng used the low voice he used to coax Hu Xiujie, “Mom, just one very small one, the same as the three I just sent away.”

Zhao Wenying laughed coldly, “You think I don’t know how big orange cats can get?”

Raising a cat?

Xie Lan suddenly remembered—Dou Sheng had mentioned the pet transport company would come early in the morning to pick up the four kittens. It sounded like the others had successfully departed.

He looked back at the one in the room: “He’s not planning to keep you, is he?”

Big Cat remained deeply silent.

Dou Sheng sighed lowly outside, “Mom, General Manager Zhao, Ms. Zhao Wenying, raising this cat is useful.”

“What use? I haven’t said anything about you playing with stray cats with your friends every day, and now you want to keep one at home?” Zhao Wenying’s attitude was firm. “Besides, after you board at school, you’ll be away five out of seven days a week. What about the cat?”

Dou Sheng said, “The cleaning auntie who comes every day can feed it.”

Zhao Wenying laughed coldly, “Don’t just act on a whim.”

Xie Lan hesitated, then carefully pulled open the door.

Dou Sheng’s voice became clearer—”It’s not my whim, it’s Xie Lan who wants to raise a cat.”

Xie Lan appeared at the door: “?”

“Hey, Lanlan.” Zhao Wenying turned her head and saw Xie Lan, immediately walked over quickly. “Sorry, you’ve been sick so many days and auntie hasn’t been around. I just sent the client away.”

A large suitcase still stood in the hallway outside. Zhao Wenying wore a long wool coat and scarf, looking like she’d just rushed back early in the morning.

She stepped forward and gave Xie Lan an unexpected hug, reaching out to cup Xie Lan’s face and rub it between her palms.

Xie Lan’s eyes went blank: “Auntie Zhao, what are you doing?”

“Your cheeks don’t feel hot.” Slender, soft hands covered his forehead. “Your head’s not hot either. Should be almost recovered.”

Xie Lan: “…Auntie Zhao, let me go.”

Xie Lan checked his reflection in the nearby clock case, confirming his face hadn’t deformed. “I’m almost recovered, it’s fine.”

“Auntie didn’t take good care of you.” Zhao Wenying sighed. “Oh right, Douzi said you want to raise a cat?”

Dou Sheng gave Xie Lan a look from behind.

“Oh…” Xie Lan hesitated, “Yes… because…”

“Because he needs emotional support.” Dou Sheng immediately took over. “China is both his homeland and a foreign land. Alone in a foreign land, living under someone else’s roof, getting sick made him feel terrible. This cat not only slept with him while he was sick, but last night it even helped him catch a bug.”

Xie Lan’s expression collapsed upon hearing this.

He knew it—that cat was Dou Sheng transformed.

“I see.” Zhao Wenying paused. “But what about when Lanlan goes to college?”

Dou Sheng had already made a victory sign behind Zhao Wenying. When she turned around, he became serious again. After thinking for a moment, he said, “By then, you might already love it. If you don’t, I’ll give it to fans again.”

Zhao Wenying turned back with a cold face, “I think you’re the one who wants to raise it.”

“Even if I’m the one asking, it’s still a gift for Xie Lan.” Dou Sheng sighed. “Mom, please.”

As soon as he finished speaking, an orange shadow passed through Xie Lan’s peripheral vision. Big Cat, tail held high, elegantly passed between the three two-legged creatures, walked to the stairway, sniffed the steps, paused, then silently slipped back into Xie Lan’s room.

Zhao Wenying temporarily compromised, urging the two youngsters to hurry and eat before going to tutoring.

Breakfast was what Zhao Wenying bought downstairs when she came back. Xie Lan tried a bite of tofu pudding he’d never had before—the texture was very strange.

Dou Sheng peeled an egg while saying, “I’m not going to math today. I’ll get worksheets from Old Ma to do myself.”

Xie Lan paused. “Why?”

“There’s a sponsored Weibo post to publish, for chocolate. I need to call Party A in the morning to discuss the script, and unpack deliveries.”

Xie Lan oh-ed and nodded.

So Party A was the chocolate company people.¹

There wasn’t much time before class. Xie Lan hurriedly ate two bites and grabbed his bag to leave. As soon as he opened the inner security door, he braked hard.

In the elevator area was a small skateboard cart piled full of delivery boxes. Xie Lan started counting from the bottom up, craning his neck until he finally counted clearly—32 unopened packages.

Beside them was a pile of already opened ones, various cardboard boxes and delivery bags piled together, with the unpacked items mixed among them.

“…”

He didn’t know if it was from getting up too fast, causing hallucinations.

In that pile of things comparable to a garbage dump, Xie Lan thought he spotted some miraculous clothes.

Including but not limited to: a shirt covered in chains, a sweater full of tassels, ripped jeans with a big skull on the butt.

Two pairs of shoes were also thrown in there. One was high-top Martin boots, with studs more densely packed than the sesame seeds on the breakfast flatbread he just ate. The other was a pair of distressed “white” sneakers, but the distressing color was special—not dirty gray, but somewhat like bloodstains left at a crime scene.

Xie Lan was running late and didn’t look closely before rushing into the elevator.

On the way, he wanted to send Dou Sheng a message asking what was going on, but when he opened WeChat, he discovered countless unread messages had accumulated in the group.

Early in the morning, in Class 4’s “Bright-Eyed and Bushy-Tailed” group, he’d been @ mentioned at least a dozen times.

Xie Lan’s heart began to sink, thinking various subject teachers had teamed up to talk to him again.

But after scrolling through two pages, he realized something was wrong.

• Vincent: Xie Lan’s violin skills are really amazing… OMG
• Cherries: I’m stunned, a violinist right beside us?
• Croissant (Liu Yixuan): I’m starting to get ideas, is violin suitable for house dance?
• Dong Shuijing: After watching the fan recording, all I can say is 666
• Mao Lengxue: So this is the world of Class 4’s top students? I… forget it, I’ll just follow with 666.

Below was another string of emojis scrolling past—magical owls rhythmically shaking their necks with “666” on their heads swaying along.

Xie Lan’s eyes hurt from these emojis. He quickly scrolled past the interspersed praise, didn’t find any teacher tea-drinking notifications, and was about to breathe a sigh of relief when he saw an incredible expression.

[In a word, Xie Lan da cao (谢澜大草)².]

Below, everyone followed the formation, the entire screen full of “Xie Lan da cao.”

Xie Lan hesitated, then opened Dou Sheng’s private chat: What does cao mean?

Dou Sheng was probably busy. By the time Xie Lan entered school, he only replied: Which cao are you talking about?

Xie Lan was confused for a while: The cao in “Xie Lan da cao.”

Dou Sheng: ???

After a while, Dou Sheng seemed to see the class group and sent a voice message.

Xie Lan had already entered the classroom and was too lazy to get out his earphones, so he put the phone directly to his ear while walking to his seat.

The tutoring class classroom was in the laboratory building. Most students had already arrived, and the teacher was preparing materials at the front desk.

Dou Sheng’s voice sounded in his ear, low, trying to be serious yet seemingly containing laughter.

“This cao has many meanings. Here it means you’re very capable, like little grass in spring growing wildly.”

Xie Lan replied with an oh, then asked: You’re not messing with me, right?

RJJSD: If you don’t believe me, check the Xinhua Dictionary yourself. Cao is just cao, this is just a metaphor.

Xie Lan felt relieved, found his seat and sat down, then opened the class group again.

After deliberating for a moment, he replied: Thank you everyone, everyone is also da cao.

The math competition training class was right next door. As soon as Xie Lan’s message was sent, he saw Che Ziming scrolling through his phone while rushing past the doorway, stumbled, and bam—crashed into the Chinese class classroom door, falling flat on his butt.

He didn’t cry out in pain but sat there holding his phone, laughing for a long time, laughing until tears came out, fists pounding the floor wildly.

Everyone in the room was shocked.

A boy with thick glasses in front of Xie Lan turned around and asked quietly, “He’s from your Math and Physics A class, right?”

Xie Lan looked at Che Ziming, who patted the dust off his butt and walked away grinning like nothing happened. After hesitating for a long time, he made an mm sound.

“Math and Physics A is really lively,” the glasses guy sighed. “That’s nice, studying well and still able to play.”

Xie Lan: “…Mm.”

Actually, he didn’t know what was wrong with Che Ziming.

But he had an ominous premonition, because at the moment Che Ziming fell, a burst of unified and wild laughter suddenly rang out next door.

The Chinese teacher sighed, “The math competition students next door are so noisy. Front row students, close the door.”

The door closed, and the world finally became quiet.

The teacher distributed a stack of printed papers to the front row to pass back, saying: “Just take a look at this activity. Today we’ll continue discussing the organizational structure of arguments and evidence. We’ll invest a lot of time in this part because it relates not only to composition but also to argumentative essay reading and even social science reading in front. This is a Chinese exam basics class, not a literary literacy class. The goal is to thoroughly understand the college entrance exam Chinese, trying to score more points on the exam…”

The materials reached Xie Lan’s hands—a sheet titled “20XX Yingzhong Spring Semester Chinese Extracurricular Activities Overview.”

Below were roughly seven or eight items listed: broadcast recitation, reading corner, New Concept composition training, campus debate competition, Young Sprouts Poetry Society…

Xie Lan was reading through when the glasses guy in front turned around again, asking quietly, “Dude, are you that person from Class 4 who got sixteen points in Chinese?”

Xie Lan: “…”

He looked up from the materials expressionlessly. “What is it?”

“No offense. I observed you last class. I just want to tell you, actually my Chinese is pretty good. The one on stage is my homeroom teacher, I’m her class representative. If there’s anything you can’t keep up with, you can ask me. Our basics tutoring class also strives to eliminate failing grades in the midterm exam.”

Xie Lan said gratefully, “Then I can only leave this class to make a contribution.”

“Haha.” The glasses guy laughed a few times. “You’re quite humorous. There’s an old saying: knowing shame leads to courage. Take a good look at this list, I’m optimistic about you.”

Xie Lan wasn’t being humorous—he was being very serious.

These people probably all thought his sixteen points was because he didn’t try hard on the exam. Only he knew how much effort he put in.

Xie Lan sighed and glanced at the activity list. His gaze was suddenly attracted by a passage of passionate and forceful text.

【Only simple WIN or LOSE, no complex score judgments, but our aim isn’t WIN—what’s important is experiencing the joy of trying hard in the process! The Yinghua Debate Competition is open to all students, regardless of your grades or class. Here we only need people who try hard! Souls who try hard! As long as you’re willing to try hard, a debate competition will definitely bring you a leap in thinking and writing literacy!】

Well said, it spoke to Xie Lan’s heart.

Dou Sheng was currently immersed in a sea of packages unable to extricate himself when his phone suddenly vibrated again.

His hands were covered in delivery box dust and tape scraps. He originally wanted to leave the message for later, but after thinking about it, still opened it.

Renaissance: Do you know “knowing shame leads to courage”?

Dou Sheng wiped his hands and replied: Feeling shame will bring you closer to bravery. What’s up?

Renaissance: I’ve made a decision.

RJJSD: I’m all ears.

Renaissance: I’m signing up for the Yingzhong Debate Competition.

RJJSD: ??????

Today’s Chinese class was fairly relaxed. At noon, Xie Lan simply ate a rice ball, found the afternoon biology classroom, claimed a seat for a lunch break, and filled out the debate competition registration form.

The form was easy to fill out. Besides name and class, there was only one column: Debate Competition Goal.

After thinking for a while, Xie Lan listed two items.

1. Hope Chinese can improve by 74 points to reach the passing grade of 90.
2. If I can’t do it, trying hard is good enough.

Dou Sheng had also replied that way this morning: As long as you’re happy.

Xie Lan capped his pen and let out a breath of relief.

Two girls sitting at the desk in front were playing on their phones. Xie Lan unconsciously glanced at the phone interface—it was Bilibili.

After a while, one of the two girls turned around “casually” to look at him and smiled at him.

Xie Lan was startled.

Before he could react, the second one also turned around, looked at him, pulled out an individually wrapped chocolate from her pocket, “Violinist! Have some candy.”

Violinist?

Xie Lan suddenly realized and felt suffocated.

He couldn’t refuse, so he could only stuff the candy into his desk, said thanks quietly, then lay on the desk pretending to sleep and withdrawing.

Yesterday was really too impulsive—he shouldn’t have shown his face while playing.

He couldn’t help opening Bilibili again and clicking into Dou the Supremely Handsome Human’s homepage.

Followers: 1.124M, another 20,000 gained overnight.

This kind of event’s follower growth cycle was only about a dozen hours. It had probably peaked, gaining about 100K followers compared to before—not a small achievement.

Thinking of this, Xie Lan felt a bit better and casually clicked on a game review Dou Sheng posted last month, wanting to add a coin.

【Your coin balance is insufficient!】

“…”

Last night, following “The Thousand-Layer Routine of Big Cat Abducting Second Cat,” he’d found several other fan-made personal videos for Dou Sheng. He basically invested a coin for each one he watched, unknowingly exhausting his already meager coin savings.

Xie Lan sighed. Just as he was about to put away his phone, the “Eat, Sleep, Beat Doudou” small group suddenly started vibrating.

• Latte: @Cherries where are you? Didn’t you say you’d come out to play games this afternoon?
• Herring: He left in a hurry near the end of math class, said something came up at home.
• Latte: Huh???
• RJJSD: What’s going on? @Cherries

Xie Lan also sent a question mark.

Che Ziming never replied. It wasn’t until the afternoon biology class was almost over that he finally appeared.

• Cherries: Sigh, my dad’s in the hospital. I just got back from the hospital. My grandma still has no one to look after her. I’m going home now.

Xie Lan didn’t quite understand that passage. He opened a private chat with Dou Sheng and quietly asked.

Dou Sheng quickly answered: His mom works away from home. At home, it’s just his dad and grandma. His grandma has Alzheimer’s disease.

It’s actually AD.

Xie Lan’s heart felt a bit off. Before he could reply, Dou Sheng spoke in the group again.

• RJJSD: What’s your dad’s situation?
• Cherries: Fractured bone, needs minor surgery, probably has to stay in the hospital for a week. He fell while restocking goods, the goods smashed his arm, sigh.
• RJJSD: So you’re taking care of your grandma?
• Cherries: Yeah, I’m at her place now. She didn’t see my dad all day and got a bit anxious, confused again.
• Herring: Let’s go over.
• Latte: Right, we can also help cook.
• Cherries: Nah, no need, I’ll just order takeout.
• Herring: Once school starts, your grandma will really have to eat takeout for a week. Wait for us.

The group quickly settled it. Dou Sheng’s private window lit up again.

• RJJSD: I’m near school. Want to go together after you get out of class?

Xie Lan replied okay, then asked: Why are you near school?

• RJJSD: Recording some material. Che Ziming’s home isn’t far from school. Go through Sheep Intestine Alley, cross one residential complex, and it’s on that alley to the south.
• Renaissance: Okay.
• RJJSD: Oh right, I did my styling today. Be prepared.
• Renaissance: ??

Xie Lan suddenly remembered those clothes that absolutely shouldn’t appear in Dou Sheng’s stairwell this morning and suddenly had a bad premonition.

After biology class, the bad premonition came true.

Just leaving the school gate, Xie Lan saw a familiar figure standing in the distance.

—This “familiar” was familiarity with the height and proportions. He didn’t know that person, absolutely didn’t know him.

Ripped jeans torn from mid-thigh all the way down below the knees, wrinkled white T-shirt with dirty gray patches on front and back, a GoPro strapped to his forearm, feet in studded leather boots.

Dou Sheng’s fluffy, explosive black hair had a few strands of beige highlights. He held a fourth-generation iPhone with a “God” phone case, turned his head to look at Xie Lan.

“Class over?”

Xie Lan looked at the glint on his earlobe and felt suffocated.

Passersby looked over one after another. He stayed five meters away from Dou Sheng, hesitating for a long time without opening his mouth, and sent Dou Sheng a WeChat message.

• Renaissance: Are you sick?
• RJJSD: Call me Human Hundred-Change Dou.
• Renaissance: …What is this all for?
• RJJSD: Making a video. Bilibili’s new submission theme is character personas. My plan is all ready.

Xie Lan paused, suddenly remembering the topic he’d seen in Dou Sheng’s white notebook—《Someone Completely Opposite to Me》

“…” It really didn’t need to be this completely opposite.

• Renaissance: Don’t tell me you’re wearing this all day.
• RJJSD: It’s for a week.
• Renaissance: ???

This is fucking ridiculous.

Dou Sheng locked the “God” screen and put it in his pocket, walking toward Xie Lan. “Sending WeChat from five meters away, is that interesting?”

Xie Lan almost shouted “Don’t come over!”

But he held back. First, because shouting loudly would only attract more passersby to view them as the same type. Second, because up close, it wasn’t actually as scary as from far away.

Dou Sheng had excellent height proportions and good looks. His appearance diluted the intelligence-lowering aura of this outfit, especially that seemingly stick-on earring—up close, it actually looked pretty good.

Dou Sheng walked to his side, raised his hand to hook over Xie Lan’s shoulder, draping his arm over.

Xie Lan was a bit stiff. “What are you doing?”

Dou Sheng, like a big cat, let his entire arm collapse on his shoulder. “Starting today, I’ll undergo some changes in my persona.”

Xie Lan secretly glanced at the surrounding passersby’s eyes with his peripheral vision. “Specifically?”

“Specifically includes: decadent delinquent youth, poor student, sleazy campus punk.”

Xie Lan paused. “I roughly understand sleazy, but what does delinquent youth mean?”

As he asked, his gaze unconsciously glanced downward.

“Delinquent youth means troubled youth, generally having engaged in illegal or criminal behavior. But to clarify, the one I’m playing hasn’t committed crimes—more like an edge-case delinquent youth.” As Dou Sheng spoke, following his gaze, he looked down and said with some amusement, “Don’t look at my feet. ‘Delinquent‘ can’t be literally interpreted³!”

Xie Lan withdrew his gaze, slightly disappointed, and oh-ed.

All the way to Che Ziming’s house, Dou the Delinquent Youth Sheng earned enough stares, and all law-abiding citizens detoured around him. Xie Lan followed behind him, expression extremely cold, as if the expression pack system failed to load during character initialization.

Law-abiding citizens detouring was one thing, but what left Xie Lan most speechless was that passing through Sheep Intestine Alley, even passing student punks came up to recognize kin.

Near Yingzhong was a No. 17 Middle School, reportedly very chaotic—at least two out of ten students had been in the gang scene. Last time Che Ziming said the small-time thugs frequently encountered in Sheep Intestine Alley were basically from No. 17 Middle, and if they played connect-the-dots through fights, he could directly clear out No. 17 Middle.

That red-haired boy in baggy pants looked Dou Sheng up and down for a while. “Going to attack No. 4 Middle School, you know about it?”

Xie Lan was stunned.

Attack what??

Dou Sheng was silent for a moment. “I think I know.”

“Then hurry up, we’re waiting for you.” Red Hair pulled out his phone and jogged in another direction. “I’ll go round up a few more people.”

Dou Sheng made an mm sound. “Okay, I’ll come in a bit.”

Red Hair turned back and pointed at Xie Lan. “Don’t bring him. Can tell at a glance he’s useless.”

Xie Lan: “?”

Who’s useless?

Dou Sheng laughed beside him. Xie Lan glared at him, making him laugh even harder, even coughing twice.

“What were you really thinking?” Xie Lan sighed. “Videos can be shot like this?”

“Of course they can. Shooting an anti-persona is fun.” Dou Sheng adjusted the GoPro. “Let everyone experience with me what kind of feedback a law-abiding citizen like me—with delinquent dress, delinquent exam grades, and delinquent personality and temper—receives daily.”

Xie Lan said expressionlessly, “Might receive a beating from friends nearby.”

Dou Sheng smiled. “That’s also a kind of feedback.”

As he spoke, he continued walking forward. Probably afraid Xie Lan was really too embarrassed, this whole way he deliberately walked one or two meters ahead of Xie Lan, maintaining some distance.

Xie Lan watched him from behind. Actually, with Dou Sheng’s appearance, his exterior could hardly become the same category as those messy characters. What really integrated him with the “delinquent youth” role was mainly his aura.

Dou Sheng seemed to have some acting talent. From the moment they met today, he carried an indescribable faint dejection.

He wasn’t sullen, didn’t show irritability or gloom, even smiled cheerfully, but there was a sense of indifference, as if he didn’t care about anything, just smiled perfunctorily as he passed by and that was it.

Che Ziming’s home was in another old alley to the south. That alley was very deep and long, winding and turning. Walking in, one inevitably passed by countless households’ doors. The road was very narrow—someone washing their hair at the door, Xie Lan could help with a stretch of his hand.

“This whole area is old bungalows, actually the same principle as outside Wangjiang Alley.” Dou Sheng explained in a low voice. “Looks poorer, but probably will be demolished in two years. After demolition, they’ll move into apartment buildings. Look how happy they all are.”

Indeed, poor but not destitute, the alley was still quite lively with people coming and going.

Walking to the bungalows inside, they heard Che Ziming’s voice from far away.

“Hey, Grandma, come inside. Don’t wait at the door. Dad’s not coming home tonight…”

An old lady wearing a dark blue printed floral jacket with white hair stood at the door, looking in the direction Xie Lan and Dou Sheng were coming from.

She muttered to herself, “He’ll come back, he’ll come back. Having Che Jun go to university at the doorstep is so he can come home for meals.”

Che Ziming was helpless. “My dad already has me. I’m about to go to university…”

“Who are you?” The old lady turned to look inside the door, her tone suddenly cold. “Do I know you?”

Che Ziming said desperately, “I’m Che Jun’s son.”

As he spoke, he poked his head out from inside, holding an enamel basin, stirring the dumpling filling inside.

Hearing footsteps, Che Ziming turned to see the two. His gaze directly skipped over Dou Sheng, and he raised his hand to greet Xie Lan. “Lan, you’re here. Where’s Douzi?”

Dou Sheng’s steps halted.

Xie Lan couldn’t help laughing and silently pointed to the side.

Che Ziming’s expression froze. Slowly, slowly, he moved his gaze to Dou Sheng’s face. Stunned.

“Oh my! My Jun is home!” Che Ziming’s grandma pulled out a handkerchief from somewhere, snapped it and slapped it on her leg. “My Jun! School must be hard. Did they assign you work today?”

As she spoke, she walked over and hugged Dou Sheng’s arm.

Xie Lan was confused. Dou Sheng obviously froze for a moment too, then ah-ed.

“Yes… there was an assignment… that… to be captain of the No. 4 Middle School attack brigade.”

Xie Lan: “??”

Che Ziming: “??”

“Brigade captain is great! The organization needs talents like you! Really makes mom proud!” The old lady slapped her thigh again, suddenly turned to see Che Ziming, grabbed his arm and pulled him over.

Che Ziming instinctively resisted. “I don’t… don’t want…”

“Don’t want what?!” The old lady pointed at Che Ziming and said to Dou Sheng, “He says he’s your son. Good heavens, your son is already this big!”

—

Notes:

1. Xie Lan takes “Party A” literally, as if it’s a specific entity or person named “Party A,” rather than understanding it’s a Chinese business term meaning “the client/customer” (as opposed to Party B, the contractor/service provider). He thinks there’s an organization called “Party A. ↩︎
2. “草” (Cao) is internet slang derived from “草泥马”. When used alone or as “大草,” it’s an expression of amazement/shock, similar to “holy shit” or “damn.” ↩︎
3. “失足少年” (shī zú shào nián) – Lost Footing Youth
   Literal Meaning: “Youth who has lost their footing.”
   Actual Meaning: “Delinquent youth” or “youth who has gone astray” (morally/legally)
   Xie Lan, taking it literally, looks down at Dou Sheng’s feet when he hears “失足” (lost footing), thinking it means something wrong with his feet/walking. ↩︎